


Worry Not, Because It's All For You

by TheNextJoeTrohman



Category: Fall Out Boy, The Damned Things (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Cuddles, Drug Use, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7350541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNextJoeTrohman/pseuds/TheNextJoeTrohman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe is good at getting high and confusing Andy's house with his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worry Not, Because It's All For You

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Pretentious Child - With Knives  
> Some of these ideas were my friend's, so thank you for that! :)

“Patrick! Let me in!”

The first thought Andy had was, ‘What the fuck?’, because it was 1am on a Saturday morning, and someone was pounding very sloppily on his front door demanding access.  
That, and he was definitely not Patrick.

At first, he thought if he ignored the mysterious visitor, they’d go away, so he pulled his covers over his head and nestled his face into his pillow. Or, he could just sleep right through it, seeing as the guy would probably run of energy soon enough.

Apparently, that was not happening, because this guy seemed very persistent, and the yelling and banging got louder. Andy groaned, rolling out of bed, and beginning the trip downstairs in just his boxers, eyes still clouded by sleep.

Rubbing his eyes, he pushed the blind out of the way to get a better look at the mystery man at his front door, and _fuck_ , was that Joe?

Andy did a double take and gulped; they hadn’t properly spoken since the hiatus had started, as activity within The Damned Things had slowed almost to a halt. Shaking his head, his eyebrows firmly set, he yanked the door open and looked up into the clouded eyes of his bandmate.

Joe’s wild hair was tangled and sticking up worse than usual, his large blue eyes glossy and unfocused. Andy then recognised the stench of weed, and grimaced, of course. It was Joe, what did he expect? He was known for his drugs and his alcohol, and Andy wouldn’t hesitate to assume the hiatus had probably made the younger man more dependent. Joe was looking down, confused, at a key he was holding oh-so-carefully in his hand.

“It wouldn’t fit.” Andy raised an eyebrow.

“This isn’t your house, that’s why.”

He was almost amused. Almost. Joe just looked from the key he was frowning at, up at Andy’s tired grey eyes, and he pulled a lopsided grin before reaching for the shorter man, “Patrick!”

“I’m not Patrick, buddy,” Andy grabbed at Joe’s wrists, pushing him back and steadying him while he reached for the phone on the table.

“But this is Patrick’s house,” Joe insisted.

“No, dude, it’s not,” Andy was punching Patrick’s number into the house phone with his left hand, holding Joe’s wrists with his other hand gently so he didn’t scare him off or allow him one step further into his house. The first option sounded nice; Andy couldn’t stand Joe when he was high. However, he wasn’t cruel enough to let the poor guy wander the streets, stoned and confused.

Patrick wasn’t picking up. Frustrated, Andy tried another three times, before throwing the phone onto the sofa and reaching for his car keys instead, shoving his feet into the nearest trainers.

Joe was still blissfully oblivious to everything going on around him, grinning at Andy’s pissed off expression, his mood not faltering one bit when Andy dragged him towards his car and shoved him into the passenger seat.

The car ride back to Joe’s was mostly silent, apart from Joe’s drawling of song lyrics and random questions directed at the shorter man, who mostly grunted – He was tired, and wasn’t fond of driving through the city at almost 2am with a stoner. Said man didn’t seem to care, he was busy singing quietly to whatever was playing on the crappy car radio instead.

When they eventually reached Joe’s, he stumbled out of the car and almost face-planted the steps leading him up to the front door. Andy sighed, taking responsibility for the younger man, getting out of the car himself and walking him up to the door himself, making sure Joe was safely inside before locking the door with the keys he’d fished from Joe’s pocket and posting them through the letterbox.

A strange ache made its way through Andy’s chest as he drove back to his own place – He felt strangely lonely now his friend was safely back in his own house, not with him.  
He shook off his stupid thoughts, blaming it on the lack of sleep, and focused on the road.

The next time Andy had an encounter with Joe, it was due to drinking rather than drugs.

It’s 2am, and Andy is wide awake anyway. His sleeping pattern is fucked; he didn’t have plans so he’d just sleep his days away, and now here he is, awake at an ungodly hour in the morning listening to Joe belting out Celine Dion’s “ _All By Myself_ ”.

He’s slurring the words at the top of his lungs, swaying on his long legs into the wall around Andy’s front garden. This time, he’s amused, leaning his elbows on the windowsill and sticking his head out into the cool night air to watch Joe sing to the streets, no doubt annoying his neighbours.

It’s fine until Joe seems to lose all of his energy and half-heartedly collapses into the brick wall next to him, head drooping slightly. He’s still mumbling the chorus. Andy goes into mother hen mode, sighing as he pulls on his green Fuck City hoodie and making his way downstairs and to the front door, shuffling towards Joe in his godawful flip-flops; at least they’re convenient.

Gently but firmly, he grabs the brunette by the shoulders, with the intent of walking him inside, but Joe goes completely dead. Andy almost drops him straight away. Joe is a heavy weight, and while Andy is incredibly strong, he also has to be careful – Joe is human, and Andy would feel awful if he hurt him in any way. Somehow, the shorter man guides Joe inside, and lays him down on the sofa. Joe is half conscious, whimpering a little, probably from the movement, so Andy puts a bucket next to his head for good measure.

Luckily, Joe gives into sleep, and lies unconscious on the brown leather in Andy’s front room, in his party-ruined clothes. The other man doesn’t even want to hazard a guess at half of the marks on his jeans and the stain on his shirt (it was probably alcohol, or maybe that was Andy’s wishful thinking).

Andy sits with Joe for another ten minutes, brushing his curls off his sweaty forehead while he lies dead to the world, before heading back upstairs.

Joe eventually wakes at 1pm to the sound of a drum kit, hungover. The drums are only adding to the crashing in his head, and he groans painfully. With no idea where he is, he sits up slowly and is confused upon sighting weights and other exercise paraphernalia.

“Since when was my house a gym?”

The third time, Andy’s not even sure what Joe’s been taking, mainly because he’s not even awake and therefore Andy has no real indicator until he gets up close.

He’d been in the shower, humming lines to ‘ _Wherever I May Roam_ ’, so the chances of hearing his visitor weren’t completely unlikely, seeing as he wasn’t exactly singing loud at all.  
However, his first reaction upon coming back into his bedroom is, “ _Dude_.”

Joe is sprawled out in his entire naked glory, smack bang in the middle of Andy’s bed. Cheek pressed into the pillow, probably drooling, but definitely snoring. Andy tears his eyes away from Joe’s butt, and then thinks about how the hell he could possibly have gotten into his house.

It then occurs to him that he may have left the door unlocked after going for his evening run, and scolds himself silently, remembering to check the door later on in case his visitor had left it open.

As he makes his way towards Joe, to wake him, he hesitates – He’s probably tired and confused, and Andy would feel awful waking him. Instead, he pulls the covers over Joe’s bare body, before tiptoeing downstairs to check the door.

He watches a film before crashing on the sofa, feeling slightly less alone knowing one of his best friends was in the room above him as he closes his eyes and succumbs to sleep.

This becomes a regular occurrence, but Andy’s not really complaining about the company. He does feel awkward when Joe walks in to Andy listening to some particularly heavy music while he eats his tea, absent-mindedly staring into space.

Straight away, Andy abandons the food to turn the music off – It’s also incredibly loud, and Mixon next door can probably hear it, not that he’d be complaining anyway seeing as they share the same music taste.

Before he has the chance, Joe immediately starts protesting, waving his arm at Andy, “Andy, this music is beautiful… I gotta _dance_!”

The shorter man watches the other drawl over his words in his drug-induced state and then start swaying his hips like he’s in a club, which doesn’t fit at all. Shrugging, Andy figures, ‘ _As long as he’s happy_ ’, and lets him get on with it, but is pulled by the wrist before he has a chance to sit down.

“ _Dance_ , Andy!”

Joe is an awkward mess, his long limbs flailing everywhere, and Andy almost laughs, because it’s just so _funny_ , but he doesn’t, because Joe’s so damn serious about it. It’s so cute, so Andy lets Joe take his hands and guide him in a stupid, messy dance, giggling slightly.

The guitarist doesn’t even care, leading Andy in his contradicting movements, pulling him and jumping about, and he looks so happy, and Andy feels himself smile , enjoying himself too.

\---

3am, and yet again, Andy is woken by his usual visitor.

He’s not even concerned by Joe’s presence in his house, just dragging himself from out under the covers and into the kitchen, where cupboard doors are slamming, and he watches Joe climb the counter to reach the very top shelf, in search of snacks.

Joe seems to settle on Oreos, before climbing down and then noticing Andy’s presence in the doorway, “Andy! When did you get here?”  
Andy grins, “It’s my house; how many times must I remind you?”

In minutes, the Oreos have been demolished, Joe leaving a mess of chocolatey crumbs on the counter as he goes rooting for something else to eat. As he picks up a packet of crisps, Andy shakes his head, and announces he’ll order him pizza, and Joe’s face lights up and he grins like a child. He practically attaches himself to Andy, who pulls a face at the familiar scent of weed, but then holds him anyway because he’s so grateful that Andy is picking up the phone to order the biggest pizza he can, all for Joe.

It ends in Joe trying to feed Andy the pizza, dripping with cheese, and of course Andy has to politely remind him that he’s vegan, but he’s patient as he watches Joe shrug and devour it himself anyway. They’re playing video games in the front room, and Joe’s controller is greasy, but he looks content so Andy lets it slide, reminding himself to clean it in the morning, and Joe spends the rest of the evening beaming at the screen and thanking Andy in his less-than-sober state.

Andy finds it so cute, especially when Joe ends up lying on top of him, tired, and conks out with his face in Andy’s neck, and just this once, he can put up with the familiar herbal scent, tugging a blanket over Joe’s shoulders and leaning back on the sofa while he runs his hands through the guitarist’s wild brown curls.

Lonely is the opposite of how he’s feeling.

\----

After a few months, Andy gets used to Joe’s spontaneous, inebriated appearances. It’s not regular exactly, but he visits at least twice a week, and Andy loves it, because it’s the most contact he has with people all week, bar his neighbour and best friend, Mixon.

Andy will never be okay with Joe getting high, being Straight Edge and all, but he does get used to it, and almost looks forward to it, even though he’ll never admit it, because Joe’s visits are the highlight of his week, even if he’s not completely aware of what he’s doing.

He’s used to the guitarist walking in at odd times in the day, and just rolls with it, because Joe’s his friend, and he loves his visits. He loves Joe’s cuddly nature after he’s been smoking and the slight hyperactivity he gains, as if he wasn’t hyper enough already, and just his presence in general, and it puts Andy in good spirits for at least 24 hours.

He stops questioning how Joe manages to get into his house, but is certainly confused when he gets a call from Matt next door, and he tries really, really hard not to laugh because Joe’s in the wrong house entirely.

“Dude, you know your friend Joe?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

There’s an awkward pause before Matt finally responds, “He’s sitting in my shower.”

Andy stifles his laughter, “I’ll come round and get him,” He hangs up the phone and just laughs as he slips his flip-flops on and shuffles next door.

Matt is waiting for him, looking a bit exasperated, as Joe sits under the blast of water he’s somehow figured out how to work in the short time Matt says he’s been here. Andy is grinning, following Mixon into the bathroom, pulling the shower chord to turn the spray off and pulling Joe up by his hands.

Matt just grins in amusement, knowingly, as he watches his shorter friend drag the surprise visitor to his own house, sopping wet and giggly, and no doubt very stoned. Of course, he knew about his neighbour’s visitor, but there was something about the fact that Joe ended up in the wrong house entirely made him laugh even more.

Andy was still smirking as he dragged Joe upstairs and sat him down on the lid of his own toilet, turning for a second to grab a towel and throw it at Joe, who drapes it over his head. Quickly deciding that getting Joe out of his soaking wet clothes was the best idea, Andy began rooting around his room at lightning speed, looking for something that was clean and wouldn’t be too small on the younger man, considering he was a good few inches taller than the drummer.

Joe still seemed to be in a faraway world but co-operated as Andy began to strip Joe of his clothes, and he starts chattering about the house key not fitting again and how happy he was that Andy had brought him back to his own house, to which Andy giggled out, “This isn’t your house, buddy,” for what must have been the 15th time that month.

Joe just shrugged and shoved his arms into the sleeves of a too-small Misery Signals shirt, “It looks like my house.”

Andy raised an eyebrow as he gathered the wet clothes into a pile and threw them in the laundry basket, “It looks nothing like your house, dude.”

Joe has slid down onto the bathroom floor, his hair dripping onto tight basketball shorts Andy still hadn’t quite grown into himself, and he was picking a loose thread on the shirt. The vegan’s heart skipped a beat; he looked like an overgrown child, with his water-flattened hair and tiny borrowed clothes, and his large glossy eyes focused on Andy’s reddening face.

Softly smiling, Andy sat down with him as Joe began talking again, ruffling his still-flat hair – which was quickly fluffing up again – and holding his hand loosely.

\-----

Andy’s least favourite encounter with Joe when he was stoned was definitely the time where they’d ended up in Andy’s home gym.

That already spelled danger, because all the equipment lying around wasn’t safe at the best of times, let alone with someone baked out of their mind.

But Joe had insisted that Andy give him a tour of the house seeing as he had to remind the taller man constantly that it wasn’t actually his house (Joe still wasn’t convinced). The brunette had wandered in, cautiously padding over the yoga mats still out from last night’s workout, and promptly slipped on the linoleum as the mat ended.

Andy scrambled towards him as he went head-first towards the weights in the corner of the room, just about managing to pull him backwards. Joe groaned as his shoulders met the floor, the impact still more gentle than the crash he may have had with the weights.

As he sat up though, Andy burst. Confused at first, Joe watched the stronger man cautiously as he ranted his worries and concerns.

“What were you thinking?! You could have seriously injured yourself; you need to be more careful! I mean, get high all you want, I can deal with that, but you didn’t even think, and you could have ended up in hospital-!” Andy’s hands were shaking as he paced back and forth in front of the guitarist, furrowed eyebrows and concern shining in his eyes, looking at Joe in disbelief.

Too stoned to process what was going on and misinterpreting Andy’s worry for anger, his bottom lip started to tremble. Andy quickly went silent, as Joe, all wide eyes and freaked out expression present, just burst into tears.

“Oh, no no no, Joe, don’t cry,” Andy panicked even more as tears quickly sailed down Joe’s now-rosy cheeks into his joggers, all curled up in a ball on the floor, “Joe, I didn’t mean it like that, I was just worried!”

Joe cried harder instead, his mind not quite catching up with the present day, just repeatedly cycling through thoughts of ‘Andy, angry, bad’, and tears fell quicker, if at all possible with the way he sobbed. Yet again, Andy was reminded of a child, as he watched the man bury his cheeks in-between his knees, embarrassed and guilty, and he was suddenly aware of the massive over-reaction to Joe’s fall, even if the danger _was_ real.

At a loss of what to do, Andy crouched down onto his knees in front of Joe, prying his hands from his hair and feeling the roughness from years of guitar playing. Gently holding Joe’s hands in his own, he shuffled forwards, embracing Joe in a hug, letting go of his palms to put one hand on his back while the other tangled in messy brown curls. Joe immediately clutched at the soft Fuck City hoodie the other was wearing for comfort and pressed his face into the collar, still choking on cries and just an overall mess.

Andy could smell the weed again, and yeah, Joe was incredibly high, but he felt _awful_ about reducing him to tears, so he didn’t care as he rocked the guitarist gently as the cries died down into sniffles. Even when they had, neither moved, content in each other’s arms.

\------

Even after hiatus, Joe carried on with his stoned visits, and Andy was thankful for that.

Whilst he saw all three men regularly, he still felt lonely, what with not living in Fuck City now, and he often got frustrated with Pete and Patrick arguing over how tracks could sound, and he just found himself sat at the edge of the room with a painful headache and the wish to just be wrapped up in another person’s arms.

Joe once arrived at Andy’s on a day off, stoned, as usual, and straight away walked towards him to cuddle. Andy was already sat on the sofa, and just opened his arms for him, eyes still trained on the movie playing on the TV. Used to the herbal aroma coming from his friend and too tired to care anyway, he just relaxes as Joe leans in and lies his head on his shoulder, face pressed into his hoodie sleeve.

It’s kind of cute, Andy thinks, as Joe spends a good five minutes nuzzling his face into the blue fabric, and rubbing his nose against his neck. Touchy Joe is normal, and Andy is completely okay with it, but Joe suddenly sits up and looks Andy straight in the eyes and pauses for a few seconds.

“Your eyes are so pretty, Andy,” He mumbles, his wide blue eyes unblinking and boring into Andy’s grey ones.

Andy just blushes, “Uh, thank you.”

“No, I mean, _really pretty_. Like, _super pretty_ , Andy,” And Joe starts running his fingertips up and down his cheeks, below his eyes, and Andy just lets him because he figures it’s the weed talking.

“Whatever you say, Joe,” He’s amused, a smile curving the side of his mouth as he rests his hand on Joe’s upper back.

“Really pretty though, I like them a lot,” He keeps rambling, and murmuring about Andy’s eyes, and Andy just sits and blushes, and then Joe has his hands in his recently cut hair, nails scratching across the buzzed sides and fluffing the longer bits on top, “I like your hair too, you look really amazing.”

Joe’s nails make circles on the back of his head and Andy relaxes into it; Joe is being very cute, and it feels great too. He’s not sure what to say back.

Mesmerised by the new cut, Joe’s fingers eventually leave the brown fluff, and he drops back down to Andy’s shoulder, and he runs his nose across the snake on his throat, “This looks amazing too,”

That tickles, but Andy goes with it, and then the pads of Joe’s fingers join in, tracing the lines oh so gently, and he can feel Joe breathing steadily on his neck, warm and comforting. Andy throws his head back and Joe mouths at the tattoo, exploring, and Andy can feel himself growing hard, oh no.

Suddenly, Joe stops. He lifts his head up, his mane of hair ticking Andy’s chin, and he just looks at Andy; where his labret piercing used to sit, and the stubble growing in, and Andy’s lips. They both meet each other halfway – it’s soft, innocent and hesitant, and Andy lets Joe take control completely, putting a hand on his neck below his curls and the other one on his upper arm to steady the younger man.

Joe is practically sat in Andy’s lap now. He darts his tongue out to lick at Andy’s bottom lip, and Andy whimpers and parts them, and suddenly the kiss isn’t so innocent after all. Joe’s exploring the vegan’s mouth eagerly, one hand cupping Andy’s cheek and the other grabbing at his hoodie, and he opens his mouth even more when Andy responds, and he can feel the tongue piercing that hasn’t yet been removed – Joe groans and his head clouds even more.

As Joe begins to unzip his hoodie, Andy comes back to reality, and it hits him that Joe is still high, and even if he is really turned on right now, he would be taking advantage if he let Joe go any further. With effort, he breaks away from Joe’s lips, sitting up against him and grasping at Joe’s jacket, pushing him away cautiously.

Confused, Joe tries to continue, ignoring the small pushes on his arms and chasing Andy’s lips again, and Andy suddenly panics as he realises Joe won’t stop. Feeling awful, he pushes Joe off of him completely, onto the seat next to him, and looks him dead in the eyes. They’re dark and half lidded, and Joe is obviously aroused, but he’d feel terrible if this carried on.

“Joe, no, this isn’t right,” He starts and Joe drops his head down and licks at Andy’s neck again, and Andy has to muffle a noise and push his chest gently, “You’re stoned, I can’t…”  
Joe sits up, “But, I like you,” He protests, “Do you not like me?”

Andy gulps, “I do! I really do, but you’re not sober at all…”

“But I like you,” Joe repeats, not catching on.

“Joe, you’re high, I’d be taking advantage of you if we went any further,” Andy explains softly.

An unreadable expression crosses Joe’s face, “You don’t want me?”

“No, Joe! I do, but I can’t do this if you’re not sober, you can’t consent to this-!”

“But I thought you liked me too!” The pitch in Joe’s voice rises, and he looks destroyed, and Andy’s heart shatters a little just from the sight.

“I do-!”

“Then why don’t you want me?! Andy, please,” Joe tries to climb his way into Andy’s lap again but he’s firmly pushed away by his shoulders.

“That would be _rape_ ,” Andy spits, upset.

There’s an uncomfortable silence. Joe stands up and stumbles out of the room, and Andy hears the door slam. He just sits and stares into space, sniffling and ignoring the wetness on his cheeks and the guilt, and hoping that Joe wouldn’t remember this when he sobers up.

‘Oh my God, please say he forgets, please say he won’t remember this.’

He’s still crying when he curls up on the sofa, and he’s still crying when he eventually falls asleep there.

  
The next day is a studio day, and Andy dresses himself in jeans and a clean hoodie on top of a CrossFit shirt, silently praying that Joe won’t bring up what happened. He makes his way there, still feeling guilty, still remembering Joe’s broken look, and he almost tears up at the feeling that invades his chest.

When he arrives, Pete and Patrick are arguing over the chorus to one of the new songs. Patrick is shouting, and he’s short and snappy with Pete, who keeps protesting and desperately trying to diffuse the situation. Joe is strangely quiet. Usually he’d be calming Patrick down, or dragging Pete away, but he’s not even looking at them. He’s staring down at a loose thread on his jeans that he’s pulling at, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

Without Joe there to interrupt, it’s only a matter of seconds before Patrick explodes and storms out, sheets of paper hitting Pete in the face and his guitar dropped without a care. Andy knows he’ll be back, so he doesn’t worry, and he watches as Pete calmly picks up the mess left behind and props the guitar up against the wall carefully.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Joe announces as Andy turns to leave himself. Panicking inside due to last night’s events, Andy hesitates before walking out, and is thankful that Joe stands and roots around in his pockets first before leaving, probably looking for his lighter. Andy hasn’t even made it far when Joe steps into the hallway behind him though, and his long fingers curl around Andy’s shoulder, pulling him back.

Flushing in embarrassment and overwhelming remorse, he turned around and looked at the floor to avoid Joe’s gaze.

“I don’t remember much about last night,”

Andy sighs, relieved.

“But I do remember you pushing me away and stuff.”

As soon as Joe admits that, Andy babbles uncontrollably, “I’m so sorry, you looked so upset and I felt so guilty…”

“Woah, why are you apologising? You did the right thing,” Andy looks up into Joe’s big blue eyes and sees the truthfulness in his statement reflecting there, “I would have regretted it when I sobered up.”

Andy’s chest aches because the one thing he takes from that is, ‘ _He would have regretted sleeping with me, he doesn’t like me_ ’, but then Joe takes both of his hands and takes a step closer, and he can feel the heat radiating off the other man.

“I know it wasn’t the best time,” Joe continues, “But I did mean it, you know, all of it.”

His heart almost jumps out of his chest, and he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing, “You did?”

Joe’s hand pulls Andy’s towards his mouth, “Yeah. All of it,” And he kisses the inside of Andy’s wrist, over his XVX tattoos, and Andy is probably as red as a cherry but he doesn’t care because Joe is being so sweet, and he means every single word. ‘An apology,’ Andy thinks, ‘For all the time I’ve spent with him while he’s stoned.’

He smiles softly, and when Joe’s hand lets go of his, he cups the back of Joe’s neck with it instead and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s short, but it’s meaningful, and Andy can feel the honesty and love seeping through it. When he pulls away, he’s grinning and his heart is racing, and he feels like a teenager all over again. Joe is flushed too, and he can’t meet his eyes, embarrassed.

“I don’t mind, you know,” Andy starts quietly.

Joe raises an eyebrow, “What?”

He continues, “When you’re high. You give me company,”

Joe scratches the back of his head awkwardly, “Yeah, but you’re Straight Edge, and I feel bad that I’ve been stoned around you after, and then I don’t remember half of it anyway…”

Andy laughs quietly, high pitched and soft, “That’s okay, I remember your visits anyway. I look forward to them.”

Cracking a smile himself, Joe squeezes the hand he’s still holding. Andy is grinning too, showing off his tooth gap and neither say anything else.

They don’t really need to.

\-------

Andy can’t remember the last time Joe visited when he wasn’t high, but it must have been a while ago.

Either way, he’s having a shit day – Some dickhead knocked into him so he dropped his coffee in the middle of the streets, the health store had ran out of banana bread, and Patrick won’t stop phoning him to complain about how much of an ass Pete is.

Andy stuffs his phone into his pocket, frustrated, as he ignores the call from Patrick for the sixth time. As he carries on walking, he’s suddenly aware that he left his wallet at home, so he can’t go and buy his soy milk anyway, and he lets out a growl as he drops himself onto a nearby bench.

He ignores the missed calls from the singer, and instead opens an unread text from Joe – **That sucks :(**

Of course, he’d been telling Joe about his shit excuse for a Wednesday – **Left my wallet at home anyway, no soy milk for this guy.**

**Take a run and chill out for a bit :) I’m going out so I’ll speak to you later?**

Andy figures he’ll take Joe’s response and types out a quick ‘ **goodbye** ’ before shoving his phone in the bag on his back and starts jogging towards the park. It doesn’t take long and he chooses to run down the nature trail and through the woods, relieving his stress and letting him burn away his bad feelings.

It’s calming, and he gets to see the local wildlife while he runs, so he figures he’ll go home feeling slightly better about his day. He’s ran for about three miles when he comes to a halt in front of a dead bird, lying smack bang in the middle of the nature trail, and it takes all the control he has to not cry; he feels so bad for it. Instead of carrying on, he turns around and runs back up the trail, towards the park, and then the rest of the way home.

By the time he reaches the front door, he’s panting through his nose, and he’s tired, but he’s even more upset and he just wants to sleep. When he opens the door, he lets his bag fall from his back, and kicks off his trainers, heading straight for the living room. The sight in front of him was slightly surprising.

The first thought that entered his head was, ‘ _Oh, Joe’s high again_ ,’ as the guitarist was sat in the middle of the sofa, but he had a large cardboard box by his feet, and judging by the logo and the scribble on the side, Joe had been for a drive to the health shop 40 minutes away, just for him, which is really cute. He’s not even high though; his eyes aren’t unfocused and he’s staring straight at Andy.

“Hey, how you feeling?” Is the first thing Joe says, and Andy is completely overwhelmed. Feeling over emotional, he just walks straight over to Joe and collapses into the sofa next to him, swinging his feet into the other man’s lap and resting his head on the strong chest in front of him.

Joe looks down with concern, but Andy responds with, “I’m great now,” And his voice is cracking a little. However, Joe just smiles and kisses the side of Andy’s head, nuzzling the fluff on top with his nose, and hugs him close.

They spend the rest of the afternoon watching films that Joe had already picked out and eating Alpro yogurts out of the container with their fingers, Andy barely moving from his spot on the taller man’s lap. At the end of the second film, Andy looks up and nudges Joe’s chin until he looks down towards the drummer, and he captures his lips in the other man’s.

‘ _This is definitely consensual, and definitely okay_ ’, is Andy’s first thought when Joe responds instantly. Joe’s tongue runs over his own, knocking the piercing, and both guys moan at the contact, and they sit and make out like horny teenagers for the next half an hour and neither complain. It’s perfect.

It’s even better when Joe grasps Andy desperately by the shoulders and manoeuvres him so he’s straddling him, and it’s then completely obvious to both parties that the other is incredibly turned on. Joe can’t seem to keep his hips still as he detaches himself from Andy and attacks his neck, licking over his snake, much like the night before, and Andy just gasps and grins into Joe’s hair.

When their lips meet again, Andy’s certain it’s his favourite time Joe’s crept in uninvited, and by the smirk growing against his lips, he’s positive it’s Joe’s too.


End file.
